


Wizengamot 101

by maddieiswhatiam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-10-16 20:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10578591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddieiswhatiam/pseuds/maddieiswhatiam
Summary: Publicly dumped, Draco Malfoy sets off on a quest to join the Wizengamot and win his ex back. Along the way, his priorities change. AKA the Legally Blonde AU nobody asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

"I’m quite happy we’re here together tonight.”

Pansy half-heartedly nodded her agreement. She was less than invested in the conversation at hand, and her mind had wandered. She was never much of a doomsday prepper, even after the war, but she regretted not starting sooner because she knew the reaction from her dinner partner would be roughly a 9 on the Richter scale.

Opposite her at the table, her blond-headed Hogwarts sweetheart-who was anything but- kept staring her down, waiting for her to speak. Draco Malfoy was not one for idle gossip, but with the mounting tension between the two over the past month, his ear had made its way into several hushed conversations between Pansy’s friends. He was certain that Pansy was going to propose to him. He preferred it this way, truly. If he didn’t have to do the asking, it meant he was still the one being chased. With his hands folded gently in his lap, it was his job to wait.

“Draco, I-“ Pansy began. Draco leaned forward, nearly imperceptibly, to convey his interest. “Well, I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Things have changed so much since our days back at school, and I can see that we’re both heading to different places in our lives, so, I wanted to do this before things got any more complicated. I think that we should-“

“Yes, I will marry you.”

“-break up.”

Silence sat between the two, the air in the room as thick as Pansy’s homemade treacle tarts. 

Draco was the one to break the silence. “I’m sorry, come again? I could have sworn you just said-”

“That I’m breaking up with you. Yeah. Yep. It’s just, I’m heading off next quarter to study to become part of the Wizengamot. You know, since half of them are practically on their way out already. And you…well, to be honest, Draco, you don’t really do much of anything. You laze around, doing god knows what with Zabini and Nott. You don’t really have any ambition, for a Slytherin. You seem much more content to spend your father’s Galleons on frivolities. You’re just not serious enough for me.” After her long-winded rant, Pansy blew out a long breath.

“Pans- I’m seriously in love with you. Isn’t that enough?” the blond managed to say, though his impassive exterior seemed seconds away from cracking.

She didn’t respond. Her answer came in her standing up from their dinner table, grabbing her clutch on the table, and quickly yet effortlessly gliding out of the front of the restaurant.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Mate, are you in there? I need your help with-“

“Do not bother him unless you want your bollocks hexed clean off. Didn’t you hear what happened?”

A knock came from the outside of Draco’s heavy wooden door. With no response from the master of the room, the door slowly opened and in peeked the heads of what Draco would consider his closest friends. The room, with it’s slightly dark interior even on good days, seemed nearly black to accompany the mood of the solitary figure buried in the downy comforter and mounds of pillows on the bed at the center of the room. Trust Draco Malfoy to make himself the center of attention, even in his private quarters.

Blaise stepped in the room first, unafraid of the consequences. “Draco, you know, this really isn’t all that healthy for you. You’re young, women find you attractive, and you should be out there shagging the pants off of half the women in London. And instead, you’re here. Wallowing in your own sorrow.”

“We’re really sorry about what happened with-“ Theo began, but was cut off abruptly as Blaise loudly whispered, “We are not saying the P-word, Nott, or you’ll be the one dragging him out of bed.”

“Where’s she get off saying you’re not serious, mate? You’re the most intensely serious person in wizarding Britain. And probably Muggle Britain, too. All because you didn’t go off and become a member of the Wizengamot training class, like Potter.”

A blond head lifted feebly from the pile of decorative emerald green pillows on the bed, only to whine out, “What’s Potter got to do with my girlfriend dumping me and leaving me for dead?”

Theo shook his head pityingly. “You really haven’t lifted your head out of your arse in the past few days, have you? Take a look in the Prophet. It’s got all you need to know, front page.”

**PANSY PARKINSON TO BECOME PANSY POTTER?**

Accompanied with a photo of Pansy and Harry-sodding-Potter, arm in arm, the wedding band that SHOULD’VE been on Draco’s hand now adoring the ring finger of his worst enemy. Worst enemy might be stretching how much Draco cared about Potter, but, at this moment in time, he really could not be bothered to think of a softer label for the man who stole what should’ve been his.

Draco’s eyes lit up as he handed the paper to Blaise and pointed at the photo of her simpering up at Potter. “This is what Pansy wants. She wants someone on the same career path. Someone serious. Someone lawyerly. Someone who wears capes when it’s not even cold out. Someone who’s not blond.”

Blaise scanned Draco’s manic expression, taking in the widened eyes and the stubborn furrow to his brow. “You’re looking a bit mad, you know. Care to share with the rest of the class here, Mr. Malfoy?”

The blond let out a baleful grin. “Well, it’s quite obvious, innit? I’ve got to go join the Wizengamot. Get a job, become a top-notch lawyer, get Pansy back. It’s a fool-proof plan to get my life back on the perfectly suitable track it was already on.” He got out of bed and began pacing around. His eyes were flitting faster than a Cornish pixie’s wings as he thought. Blaise arched an aristocratic eyebrow at Draco. “You honestly think that will work?”

“Why not?” came the rebuttal. “That’s what she’s getting from Potter, and we all know that I’m much better looking and a better match for her.”

Theo decided to interject. “Not to crush this mood that you have going on, but becoming part of the Wizengamot is actually very difficult. You need to pass the Wizengamot Entry test before you can even apply to be part of the program. What makes you so sure that you’ll pass?”

“I was top of the class back in Hogwarts. I think I’ll manage just fine. Or have you forgotten that much?”

A muffled cough was heard from Blaise, “Second in the class.”

Draco turned his body towards his friend. His lanky body, pulled to full hight towered slightly over Blaise’s frame. “Excuse me, what did you say?”

“I said,” Blaise allowing a smirk to come forth, “you were second in our class. Or have you forgotten that much?”

A scowl adorned a fair face and his mouth puckered in an unpleasant expression. “I had not forgotten. I had just chosen to ignore the fact in favor of what I know to be true, which is that I was the smartest, and anyone who states otherwise is lying.”

Theo nodded, the current size of the egos in the room nearly crushing him under the invisible weight. “So, that’s it, then? You’re doing this?”

Draco strode towards the full length mirror propped against the green-papered walls to stare at himself with a maniacal grin.

“I’m doing this.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting in is hard.

“So, how does one even get into the Wizengamot? What steps am I supposed to take in order to make this a reality?” Draco said, turning to face his friends still intruding upon his sacred chambers. Blaise and Theo had taken it upon themselves to sit on Draco’s bed, purposefully messing up his bedspread and knocking pillows onto the floor. In Draco’s opinion, they were right gits. But gits he needed to help him.  


Theo furrowed his dark eyebrows close together in thought. “I know you have to pass some test and a year of something, but I honestly have no idea. Wizengamot Entry Exam?”  


“Ah, yes, the W.E.E.” Blaise tutted his agreement, chuckling. “Not very aptly named, now is it?” The three all had a good laugh, Theo mouthing “wee” over and over in his breathless laughter, falling off the bed in his rolling around and generally childish behavior. After the resounding thud of the body hitting the stone floor and an audible “oof”, Blaise straightened up. “No matter the name. What else do you need in order to get in?”  


Draco strode towards one of his many overly packed bookshelves in his room, hoping desperately he hadn’t thrown out his old books with information on careers after Hogwarts. After a few moments of scanning, his eyes landed on a scarlet tome bearing the title Wizengamot 101 that, most likely, held all the answers to his questions. Flipping it open to a section titled “Requirements”, he began to read out loud.  


“Let’s see…’W.E.E. score of 178, entrance essay, O.W.L. levels of outstanding in at least three classes.’” He shut the book with one hand, the dust from years of disuse spiralling upward from the old pages. “The three classes is no problem, I had plenty of exemplary remarks. And an entrance essay will highlight many of my finer points. I’m quite adept with a quill, amongst other things. It’s that damn W.E.E. score that’ll give me trouble. How does one even study for that?”  
Blaise shrugged his shoulders in a quick blink. “I think it’s a general knowledge kind of thing. You’ve got to pay to take it, though. And this probably means you need to take a halt on the afternoon boozing, my friend.”  


Theo raised his head from the ground where he had landed and had yet to move from. “Less boozing and snoozing, more studying and...something else that rhymes with studying.”  


“You’re an absolute idiot. I think that fall knocked loose the four remaining brain cells you had. Thank Merlin for Blaise, or I may not be passing this at all.”  


The aformentioned nodded his head in receipt of the praise.“Alright, mate. Let’s get to studying.”  


For weeks, the only places you could find the three were in the library at Malfoy Manor, a rather large and imposing space, or in Draco’s bedroom, lounging around and listening to the blond lament about how he would never pass the damn exam.  


After the first practice exam, Draco handed his work over to Blaise to check. Score 143. Not good enough. Frustrated, Draco let out a loud growl of a sigh and opened another book, begrudgingly getting back to work.  


Weeks later, he took a second practice exam. Theo and his red-inked quill, a white-feathered beauty he had affectionately named Rosita, marked the exam this time. Score 167. Close, but not there. Later that night, Theo found Rosita snapped in half, and no amount of charms would repair her.  


And finally...exam day. Draco walked out of the exam hall with a swagger and a shrug to his shoulders. Nothing he could do about it now. He left his damn brain on that paper, along with all of the information in it. He hoped it would be enough.  


A week later, a brown barn owl showed up at his window, a parchment attached to its ankle. The attached document bore the seal of the W.E.E. examiners. Draco was shaking with anticipation, though he would never admit to it. As far as anyone else was aware, he was confident he had passed. He unrolled the thick scroll to view his final score...179. He passed! By one point, but passing is passing, and a Malfoy never looked a gift horse...er, owl...in the mouth.  


With his W.E.E. score in hand, an attached personal essay lovingly crafted to appeal to any witch or wizard’s giving nature, and a recent photograph of himself to provide some humanity to his application, he gave the bird a treat and sent her on her way. Watching the winged creature disappear into the distance, his lips curled into a grin. He was surely accepted. He just had a feeling. The world was in the palm of his hand.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________-  


In the oak-paneled room, deep in the Ministry of Magic, where the Admissions and Human Resources department was located, a gathering of six wizards and witches perused the application file. Only so many people could be accepted- it was a rather elite program, after all. An elder wizard coughed into a handkerchief in his palm, “And so the Wizengamot accepts the following students into our training program: Ronald Weasley, Pansy Parkinson, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnegan, Hannah Abbott, and Ernie Macmillan. And now-”  


“What about Draco Malfoy? I’ve perused his application and it’s spotless,” a brunette witch interrupted.  
Another older man replied, “As a former Death Eater and son of Lucius, we don’t know if he is the best candidate.”  


“He is a clear choice,” came a rebuttal. “His W.E.E. score was passing, he included a beautifully written essay with clear prose and heart-wrenching subject matter. Draco Malfoy needs to be admitted. Let’s put it to a vote. All in favor, raise your hands.”  


Three hands raised immediately. A fourth hand made its way up, breaking what would have been a tie.  


“Draco Malfoy, welcome to the Wizengamot.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for double posting! I don't have wifi, so I work on these chapters at a Starbucks and post whenever it's convenient for me.

First days were hard. Draco Malfoy chalked his rotten luck up to that, and nothing else.  
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After his acceptance into the Wizengamot, he may have let out an audible “yes” with a fist pump that he was later delighted that no one saw.

What ensued was a week of gathering textbooks and new notebooks and quills in order to attend the sessions needed in the year leading up to becoming an official member. And a few reparations were in order. A certain Theo Nott ended up with a new, expensive quill to make up for some less-than-admirable actions concerning Rosita. Blaise Zabini was rewarded magical French chocolates that changed taste according to palate of the eater.

It never did well to be the new guy, and Draco stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark stone-walled classroom that served as a learning place for those in training for the Wizengamot. He surmised it had once been used as a dungeon in the older days of the Ministry and had been repurposed to make it “inhabitable” for students. Idly, he thought that the dungeons in the Manor had more style. But, no matter, he was on his way to Wizarding Law 100.

Being the first one into the class always made a person seem like a smarmy bastard, so Draco tried to time his arrival a mere five minutes before the course was set to begin. The largest downside to that, however, is that seats are filled up, and he wasn’t sure who to expect in the class anyone. It’s not as if the Ministry sent out a class roster.

Upon entrance, Draco’s lips curled up in an automatic sneer in a show of old habits and new resentments, because sitting before him were none other than Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. And his sneer only deepened seeing the object of his motivation sitting on Harry Potter’s right hand side. He corrected his look into a smile and nodded his head cordially at them. “Pansy. Potty. Weaselbee.”

His eyes scanned the tightly-packed crowd of faces, searching for any place to sit. Any at all. But the only open seat was at the right-hand side of Ron Weasley. God forbid there’s ever food in this class, Draco thought. He had observed Ron eating at Hogwarts and knew he would be chicken-winged by those pointy elbows right in the perfectly sloping nose if he got too close when food was around, and he was quite proud of his nose, thank you very much.

After letting out a long, drawn out sigh, he sat himself in the only place he could without causing a scene. Ron let out a wolfish grin and slung a freckled arm over Draco’s shoulder, leaning in close with the scent of onions on his breath. “How’s it going, prat?. Shitty about Pansy leaving you, it was all over the Prophet how you cried. She’s pretty happy with Harry, if you were wondering.”

Draco’s mouth opened to retort, but a loud banging, followed by a hush falling over the collection of students signalled the arrival of the Professor. The Professor, a small but harsh faced woman with a wizened face and narrowed eyes, surveyed her new cropping of students.

“Greetings and salutations, students. I am Professor Utting. You may call me Professor Utting. Not any variation on that. You have been hand-selected to join the Wizengamot, thanks in part to your applications and general skill. You will all have the opportunity to show your skills, because at the end of this year, a small few of you will be culled to join another professor in an exclusive panel to execute your skills in real life cases.” She levitated a parchment towards the back of the class and landed it on a student’s desk. “I hope you enjoy where you’re sitting, because you will not be able to move seats for the rest of the year.”

Draco internally groaned. 

“As that is being passed around the room, I want to take some time to go over the assigned reading I’m sure you all completed for our first day.”

An uneasy blond in the front row turned around to survey his classmates, all nodding. Draco had not, in fact, done any reading. He was too preoccupied with choosing the right outfit. And, in a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms, accented with a red tie, he thought it was well worth it to have skived off the work he was supposed to do. However, he seemed to be the only nervous face in the bunch and tried to school his face into a mask of neutrality.

“Who can tell us all about the trial of Gaffney vs. Polluck? Anyone?” A few hands shot in the air, while the professor scanned the crowd. It had been a slightly sadistic pass time over the years, discerning the most uncomfortable student in her classes to single out. The weak ones are easy to scare off. She spotted a nervous blond in the front row trying to glance surreptitiously around the room. Eureka! “Mister...Malfoy, was it? Can you enlighten us?”

Bollocks. A panicked brain froze in the midst of any half-cocked lie it was creating in preparation for this exact situation. With a deep breath, the truth came out. “I...I am afraid I don’t know, Professor. I wasn’t aware there was reading to be done.”

Professor Utting nodded with a self-satisfied grin.“Well, then. Mister Potter. Ah, famous Harry Potter. Let me offer you a case. A student has shown up, completely unprepared for the day in your very important class. Should you let the student stay, or would you kick them out?”

Draco let his icy grey eyes wander over to where he knew Potter and Pansy were sitting. Potter made a show of crossing his left arm over to touch Pansy in a display of male bravado that was utterly sickening, making the ring finger on his left hand catch the light so as to glint off the engagement ring Pansy had placed there. Draco narrowed his eyes. That ring would be off of Potty’s hand and onto Draco’s much more deserving finger in no time. The smug feeling of knowing he’s won a fight before it had begun was crushed when he heard that voice reply, “I’d kick them out. They obviously don’t belong since they didn’t do the assigned work.”

Professor Utting motioned for Draco to make a departure out the front of the classroom. “You heard your classmate. You had better come back prepared tomorrow.”

Draco stood up and muttered some very unkind and highly imaginative curses under his breath on the way out, shooting glares and the titters and giggles coming from everyone in the seats.  
_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ 

First days were hard. Draco Malfoy chalked his rotten luck up to that, and nothing else. After making his way out of the class, he landed in the atrium of the Ministry. He went and sat at the base of the large fountain, with its medieval depictions of the hierarchy of the magical world. Sodding Pansy. Sodding Potter. Sodding Weaselbee and his onion breath, sodding Utting and her dusty old face, sodding-

“Let me guess, you have Utting?” a female voice interrupted his internal monologue.

Draco turned to the voice, trying to locate the face it belonged to. “Yeah, how’d you-” He came face to face with a bush of hair he hadn’t seen in awhile but knew instantaneously. “Granger?”

A smile came from the middle of the bush, and Draco was finally able to discern that, yes, there was a face in there. A wide smile, framed by brown eyes and high cheeks. Hermione Granger. Not much had changed. Somehow, that was refreshing to Draco. A beacon of normalcy on what has to be one of the worst Malfoy days. Still a small witch with a clump of brown hair and dumpy robes, but with a smile and a kind word for everybody. With a little wave, she scooted closer. “Yeah, it’s me. Don’t worry about her. I got kicked out last year, too.”

Draco let out a snort. “Probably for being a bit of an annoying, know-it-all swot.” He immediately regretted his harsh comment. He saw the brown eyes staring at him become closed off.  
“Y’know, I’m trying to offer sympathy. Make you not feel so alone. The least you could do is not be a prat about it.” Hermione stood up in a huff and began to stalk off.

He stood up to follow. “Hey, wait. Granger. Come back.” Hermione turned around only partly. “I’ll take your sympathy, but I’ll accept no pity. Deal?” He held out a hand as an olive branch.

She reached out a small hand to shake his. “Olive branch accepted. Utting can be a bit of a nasty teacher. And if you have Ulwin, do not sit in the front row. At least, not unless you have a very powerful shield charm on hand. He’s a spitter.” She said with a growing grin. “Actually, forget I said that. I’d love to see you after that class covered in spit.”

Hermione Granger had elected to study to join the Wizengamot in her final year of Hogwarts. She knew she couldn’t go about bullying the wizarding world to change from the outside, so placing herself in the middle of the lawmaking body and becoming the youngest recorded member in history was really the only course of action she saw. It set her apart from her peers, and now she was on the other side of the classes and in the Wizengamot as a current residing attendant. 

Her friends, Harry and Ron, came soon after, being prominent members in the wizarding community after the war. It came as highly suggested that they follow in her footsteps and help shape the new laws in the land. While the other two remained rather closed-minded towards Slytherins and others that hadn’t fought in the war with them, Hermione tried to open her heart and mind to those people. Having the approval of ⅓ of the Golden Trio was the one thing some people needed to restore a reputation.

Some days were harder than others, but an effort was being made, and she was proud of herself. It took bravery to look people that hate you in the face and try to understand them. Which is what she was doing now. Extending an olive branch to Draco Malfoy, ex-Death Eater and possible future member of the Wizengamot.

Draco let out a small snort. “I have an aversion to being on the receiving end of an old wizard’s bodily fluids. Thanks for the tip.”

Hermione smiled. “Well, I’m to be off now, I’ve got a case that they need me in the pit for. I’ll see you around, Malfoy.”

“See you, Granger.”

And with that, she strode off.

Draco contemplated his next year. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad if he got Granger on his side. And if he got in with her, it puts him one step closer to Pansy through her, where he could win her back and sweep her back off of her feet. All he had to do was survive the year. Which may be harder than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the characterizations of Ron and Harry. I love them dearly, I just need them to fit into the Warner and other rude students roles.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Parties are more fun when you add a costume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guys, I'm so sorry! Life got in the way- I had my purse and other belongings stolen, I was working summer school, and then I had to move. But I'm back and I'm going to try to keep to a semi-regular schedule! Thanks for sticking with me.

Under a copse of small trees located on the fifth floor of the Ministry of Magic that was charmed to look like a garden, Draco languidly sat and watched the bustle of witches and wizards throughout their work day. His day had been rather heinous, and watching other people suffer through a rough day was rather cathartic. Misery truly did love company, and there was plenty to be had at the end of a long shift.

Trudging along went Bartholomew Calabasas, shoulders stooped from a grueling day of work doing god knows what for the Minister, and Draco was sure the man was bored with the monotony of his daily life- shuffling in and out of this government building, day by day, into the same cubicle in the same office the man had been in for what had to be centuries, based off of the lines on the old man's face and cloak smelling none-too-faintly of mothballs. He wondered if he was making the right choice in attempting- no, he would be succeeding, he was a Malfoy- at becoming part of the Wizengamot. Did he truly want to suffer the same fate as these old, dusty curmudgeons and crones?

He ran a long-fingered hand through his hair and sighed. Of course he wanted this life, because this is the life Pansy wanted. And if he wanted another chance with her at all, he had to become the most impressive thing she'd seen in a while- academically, physically, and romantically. He ran through a mental checklist of things that needed to be done before he accomplished those goals, but he couldn't think of something that would enhance how he already was. His friends would say he's a bit of a tosser, sure, but whose friends wouldn't?

Draco stood, after hours of the maddeningly plain observations of the Ministry wizards, and brushed off his neat grey pants as he began his long walk to his dormitory. It was absolute bollocks that anyone currently studying to be a member of the Wizengamot had to live in a dormitory like a child, because he was an adult, damn it, and he needed his space. But after decorating the space to look identical to his room back at the Manor, the complaining dropped to a minimum. Well, as small as it could be, considering he was Draco Malfoy.

Passing through the halls with quick, even paced strides on his way to his room, Draco overheard bits of conversation from pairs and groups that had stopped to chat.

"...honestly, if you just would've let me jump from up there, I think I would've made it..."

"...nobody said it was supposed to be easy, you know, but here we are..."

"...I swear to Merlin, if you even think so much as touching one little speck of dust on my cat, I'll roast you alive!"

"...and later tonight, at our party, I think it would be grand if..."

Which pulled Draco up short. A party? Nobody has a party without him. He practically invented having fun. He turned back around to speak to the voices he had passed. "Oh, who's having a party? I love..." he dropped off, seeing who exactly was throwing the party. Glancing at the bespectacled boy he despised and his ginger rodent sidekick, he considered rescinding his question.

Harry reached a hand behind his neck to rub it awkwardly. "Oh, hey, Malfoy. Yeah. Big party tonight. Y'know, for us and our friends." Ron nodded, but then a slight smirk formed on his face. "Why not let bygones by bygones, eh? Sorry we got you kicked out of class. Come to our party, yeah? Let us make up for it."

Draco slowly nodded. Nothing about the exchange seemed sincere, but he had been wrong about people before. Many, many, many times. "Alright, what time? And where?"

The black haired boy-who-lived regretfully let the information pass through his lips. "Party's at 8 tonight, Bushwick room." Draco succinctly nodded once as he absorbed the information and turned to leave. "Oh, and it's a costume party. If you don't dress up, you're not allowed in."

The blond haired boy stopped short. Costume party? What did he have available for a costume party on such short notice? He would have to make do.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Bushwick room was packed as full of young Wizengamot hopefuls and their respective plus-ones, as a slight tinkling sound played through the air by way of a sonorous charm. The dim lighting of the grand room set the mood of the cocktail party, well-dressed young wizards and witches socializing while a string quartet played itself. The door slowly opened as in walked Draco Malfoy. The quartet stopped the music with a ghastly discordant screech and everyone turned to look at the young man who couldn't figure out what was going on. Eyes widened from the crowd as they took in the normally well-dressed man's attire.

Draco Malfoy was dressed in exactly three items:  
-a snorkel mask his father bought him for their last trip to the wizarding ruins in the Maldives  
-a pair of men's size 12 swimming flippers in the color Prussian blue and  
-a singular Speedo

The group immediately broke into titters and laughter as Draco measured the situation with a cool, calculated gaze. The tips of his ears were turning red in embarrassment and anger as he realized his more trusting nature left him to be duped by Potty and Weasel. Curse second chances, and thirds, and however many. He was not falling prey tonight.

Each step forward into the gathering resounded with a loud thwack as the flippers smacked against the ground. He marched with as much dignity as he could to the trio howling with laughter in the back of the room. Harry and Pansy were bent and nearly breathless from the incessant cackling, but Ron was fully on the floor with tears in his eyes and a face redder than his hair.

Harry gained enough composure over his laughter to choke out the question, "How's the ocean this time of year?" Draco gritted his teeth and tersely replied, "A bit frigid, much like your attitude. However, when I dress like a frigid bastard, I try to look less constipated." And with that, he turned on his flipper, and thwacked his way back out the door, closing it with exorbitant force.

The only utterance from his mouth was an abrupt "Shit." He found the nearest bench to sit upon and take these absolute bastards of flippers off. Draco Malfoy had hit his all-time low, and he was wearing nothing more than a Speedo. Mentally, he was cataloging all the ways he wanted to maim, threaten, and torture those bastards. And then he felt someone sit next to him on the bench and he stiffened.

"What's up...Aquaman?"


End file.
